


ammo

by cptsuke



Category: The Losers (Comic), The Losers - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2018-01-14 08:02:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1258963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cptsuke/pseuds/cptsuke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The fire fight feels like it has been going on for fucking hours. </p>
<p>Blood runs between your fingers - fuck - eveytime you think it's clotting, you shift and the blood starts flowing again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ammo

**Author's Note:**

> SAWs, a Bowie knife, swearing (like a motherfucker), Second person POV and an unadulterated love of Roque. The smug motherfucker.

  
The fire fight feels like it has been going on for fucking _hours_.   
  
Blood runs between your fingers - _fuck -_ eveytime you think it's clotting, you shift and the blood starts flowing again.   
  
A hot gun is thrown on the ground near where you're lying. It kicks sand up in your face and if your head wasn't so fucking foggy and the situation wasn't so very fucking dire; you'd be all kinds of pissed at that.  
  
As it is, you check the dwindling ammo pile you've been entrusted with and find nothing that suits it.   
  
"Clay. That's it." Your voice is raspy and dry but you've been bleeding from multiple places for hours and you're in the middle of the desert, so it's a forgiveable weakness.  
  
Clay turns at the sound of your voice, how he hears you over the gunfire is a mystery for another time; he frowns that _we're fucked_ frown and you think maybe _someone_ shouldn't have bitched about how much gear they'd stocked up on when they were leaving base earlier this week.   
  
_Enough firepower to fight a small army, your ass_.  
  
You hear the _click - click_ of Jensen's weapon emptying; his _fuck - fuck_ in time to the sound.   
  
_Situation update: moving from Dire to Most Likely Fucked._  
  
Cougar's rifle is still cracking occasionally in the distance; but the fuckers must be getting smart and staying out of his scope because the rifle doesn't sound off half as often as it could.  
  
Jensen comes back and helps sit you up, it hurts alot fucking more than you thought it would. His eyes are wide and wired behind his glasses; adrenaline and exhaustion warring for top position.  
  
"You okay?"  
  
"Fine." You lie. You can see he doesn't believe you. Jensen can't tell when you're bluffing at poker, but here, when it counts, no one spots a lie quicker and faster than the hacker. It's really fucking annoying.  
  
"Well, we're going for a stroll, see if we can't lure the fuckers out for Cougar to spread some bullet shaped love around." He says it lightly, even though you can see what they're doing is fucking stupid. Stupid but unavoidable; you'll be completely out of ammo soon and then you'll be sitting in a fucking cave with no exit.  
  
Jensen puts his sidearm in your palm.  
  
"Full mag, look after yourself, jerk." He leaves before you can hit him with it.  
  
Pooch comes back and retapes your thigh, at least that's mostly stopped bleeding. He doesn't say anything but his jaw is tight and of all of them, Pooch is the one with the best grasp on how fucked they probably are; and the one with the most to lose.   
  
"We'll be right back, don't fuck yourself up."  
  
Clay comes last. He doesn't say anything just puts the twelve inch Bowie he won from you last weekend in your hand. _What the fuck, sir?_ you ask by squinting your eyes into a glare. Clay just shrugs, which you decide to interpret as _I am a cheating motherfucker, and comeuppance is a bitch, and, here, have your fucking knife back_ and not _I am a sappy bastard and feel bad that you're going to die here alone while we go and die out there_.  
  
  
  
They leave you. You hear Cougar's rifle crack once, twice, and then silence. You can hear voices, yelling. A lot of fucking yelling. It doesn't take a genius to work out that Clay's plan failed. Probably spectacularly.  
  
You shift, trying to work up to getting to your feet, something hard digs into your palm. _Huh_. A bullet. You eye the SAWs beside you, a plan formulating in your mind. It's not a great plan. You might go so far as to say it's a pretty fucking _insane_ plan. Hell, _Jensen_ would probably approve.  
  
One part of your mind is cackling like the violence craving reptilian part it is. Another is shrugging and saying _what's a few more holes? you'll be fine_ ; lying like it always does. The rest is screaming _oh my god, you fucking psychopath, you're going to get yourself and everyone else killed_. You ignore that one. Like you always do.  
  
Getting your feet is fucking hard. And it _hurts_. You thought sitting up was painful before. This? This is being boiled in fucking oil while wild dogs tear at your limbs.   
  
But still, you stand. Admittedly you sway on your feet, your balance is all fucked up from being down so long. But you grit teeth and pick up the SAWs. And the knife.  
  
You don't really need the knife. If it comes down to hand to hand combat you're fucked, no questions or doubts about that. But _fuck it_ you think, you're going for intimidation and batshit insane so you tuck it into your belt where it sits in plain view.  
  
And then, because you are going for batshit insane, you put your game face on. Your best _I am going to gut every one of you motherfuckers and **I will fucking like it**_ face.  
  
You tell yourself that the first step is the hardest but that's bullshit; each step feels like a thousand times harder than the one before it.   
  
  
Someone once called you a motherfucking shark and said you could out-bluff a goddamn nuclear warhead.  
  
Apparently that wasn't a compliment.  
  
  
There's only six of the other guys left when you come into view. Considering theres was upwards of fifty at the beginning of the fight, the losers haven't done too badly, really. But some part of Clay's plan must have gone wrong because they've all been captured.   
  
Jensen's sitting with his arms and legs crossed; pouting like a five year old whose been put in the corner despite the rifle barrel waving in front of his face. Clay looks like he's barely concious and Pooch has a bloody, shot up hand. No sign of Cougar; you don't know what the means but whatever it is, it'll have to wait until later to be worried about.  
  
They don't see you until you're but ten metres away. You grin as one by one they startle at the sight of you. You kind of half expect them to just open fire on you and end this stupid fucking plan before it starts, but they see something in your face that says _do not fuck with me_.  
  
"Put 'em down motherfuckers." Jensen's fucking grinning like it's christmas and Robo-Cop's come to fucking visit, and _goddamn_ don't you hate that you think that?  
  
You make for a pretty fucking intimidating figure with a SAW in each hand. One of them calls your bluff and you pull the trigger.   
  
_Fuck warning shots_.  
  
The bullet hits him in the forehead.  
  
Even if you had full clips; you don't do warning shots.  
  
The others freeze at the shot. In that moment Pooch slams his bloody fist into the nearest man's face, pulverising his nose. He musn't pull his punch at all because the man goes down without a sound and Pooch reels back clutching his hand and screaming _FUUUCK_! loud enough to make the circling vultures caw angrily.  
  
Jensen moves like he's been waiting for-fucking-ever to get a piece of them; a flurry of kicks and punches that hide a week on little to no sleep and an ankle that's only stopped swelling because the boot hasn't come off.   
  
Out of instinct your hand flicks out and throws your knife at the last man coming up behind the hacker. It lands with a resounding _thunk_ in his chest and Jensen flashes a thumbs up.  
  
You don't say anything about how very close it was to hitting Jensen instead. Your aim is fucking excellent, but that's when you're not feverish and fucked up with blood loss.  
  
As quick as it starts, it ends. Pooch scans the horizon with a pilfered AK, Jensen checks on the Colonel and you see Cougar coming down a sand dune. There's blood all down his front but no falter in his loping gait. He lifts a hand and grins as he gets closer.  
  
You sway on your feet and pretend that you're fine; you can't convince your shoulders to shrug the SAW straps to the ground. Jensen, the only one not really hurt, comes up and slips the guns off you; the sudden drop of weight almost staggers you.  
  
He checks them and you almost don't see the start as he realises both of the guns are empty.   
  
"Oh you are so bad ass man. I'ma gonna kiss you, you stone cold, poker faced motherfucker."   
  
You give him a grin that says _try it and I will fuck you up_. So he tries it anyway. His hands grip at your collar, he leans in and your vision goes black. All you feel is your knees buckling and Jensen's hands keeping you from falling to the ground.  
  
Everyone's fine, everyone's okay, it's okay, you can stop now and trust these guys to get you home.


End file.
